


As The End Draws Nigh

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-22
Updated: 2007-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game of making up predictions for what will happen in Deathly Hallows, plus the (possible) final word of the book being 'scar', made my brain churn out this epilogue to the series. A bit of a songfic, a bit of a crackfic, a bit silly, a bit serious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The End Draws Nigh

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Lyrics to 'Scar' belong to Missy Higgins.

Harry pushed open the Leaky Cauldron’s door and went into the comforting warmth; it had been a chilly winter so far, and he’d spent far too much of it outside.

‘Harry!’ Hermione leapt up from her chair in front of the fire and waved him over; he hugged her before settling into his own chair. Pansy sat on the arm of Hermione’s chair, her arm lay lightly but possessively over Hermione’s shoulders. Harry thought he’d never get used to seeing them together, even though they’d been together for – it had to be two years now, hadn’t it? Well. The Sorting Hat would be pleased that they were doing their bit for house unity

‘Potter.’ Pansy nodded to him with a small smile.

‘Am I early, or is everyone else late?’

‘We’re all early,’ Hermione said. ‘But that’s all right – I wanted to warn you about something before everyone else gets here.’ Harry’s chest tightened, and Hermione evidently noticed, because she added hastily, ‘No, nobody’s died – it’s just that Malfoy’s – well, he’s –’

‘Draco’s run off to America with Snape,’ Pansy said.

Harry opened and shut his mouth, unable to think of a response other than, ‘Ugh.’ Finally, he settled for, ‘_Snape_?’

‘That’s right,’ Hermione said.

‘_Why_?’

‘I suppose he wanted to explore the benefits of a more mature partner,’ Pansy said, ‘although why he couldn’t have chosen a woman, I don’t know.’

‘Not everyone has to have a relationship with a woman just because you are, Parkinson,’ Harry said, and grinned when Hermione giggled. Pansy just smiled at him. Out of Malfoy’s shadow, she had turned out to be a fairly decent person after all.

‘I think even though it’s been a while, people still talk too much about them both,’ Pansy said. ‘It’s got to be uncomfortable. I think they did well to stay in England as long as they did, to be honest.’

‘Speaking of relationships with women, here comes Ron,’ Hermione said, and the bells over the door jangled as Ron came in, a Patil twin on either arm, and a blissfully dazed smile on his face. He clapped Harry on the shoulder and then went to sprawl on one of the couches, Parvati and Padma settling either side of him.

‘I think it’s nice, how everyone’s finding someone,’ Harry said, his eyes flicking to the door as the bells jangled again, but it was only Neville and Luna; Luna was carrying the latest edition of the _Quibbler_, unsurprisingly, considering that she was now the assistant editor. Neville waved and went to the bar after looking over the group to see who was present.

‘It makes it a bit hard to fit DA reunions anywhere, though,’ Hermione said, looking over at Ron.

‘Send Parkinson home, then,’ Harry said, and ducked as Pansy flicked a beer nut at his head. ‘I don’t think we’re going to be too terribly short of room.’

‘Oh, yes, _your_ partner’s not here yet,’ Pansy said. ‘Domestic troubles?’

‘Not at all,’ Harry said. ‘Just – finding our feet, that’s all.’

Pansy nodded and started playing with Hermione’s hair. ‘It takes time,’ she said, her expression unreadable.

Neville came over, bearing a trayful of drinks, and doled them out. The Patil twins got a glass each of something pink and sticky; Ron had Firewhisky; Hermione had a Muggle drink called ‘Midori’; Luna was drinking pumpkin juice; and Neville handed both Pansy and Harry a Butterbeer, taking one for himself before settling onto the second couch beside Luna.

‘Everyone got big plans for tomorrow?’ he asked, smiling round at them all.

‘Pansy’s going to meet my parents, at _last_,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ve decided that they can’t object to her without ruining the Christmas spirit. They’ve been after me for years to bring someone home for Christmas.’

‘They won’t object to her,’ Ron said, disengaging his mouth from Padma’s long enough to speak. ‘My parents didn’t object to me bringing these two home.’

‘I expect your parents are just dying to welcome a large brood of Weasley grandchildren,’ Pansy said.

Ron blanched. ‘I’ll leave that up to Bill and Fleur, thanks. They’ve got it well in hand.’

‘What did your parents think of Hermione, Pansy?’ Neville asked.

‘Not much. They’re dead. Suicide pact, just this last summer.’

‘Oh,’ Neville mumbled. ‘I didn’t realise.’

‘I didn’t exactly publicise it,’ Pansy said.

‘Well, it _was_ in the Prophet,’ Luna said. ‘I saw the article. I was trying to show my father how not to use adverbs. Rita Skeeter’s articles have particularly fine examples of their abuse.’

‘Oh, but it was when Neville was in Italy, don’t you remember?’ Hermione said. Neville was working as an ambassador to other countries, diligently forging ties between the various wizarding communities. ‘So he wouldn’t have seen it.’

‘Anyway, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Neville said.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Pansy said. ‘They didn’t want to see me at the end anyway. Kept going on about how I’d betrayed the Dark Lord by joining up with you lot. I didn’t bother arguing with them. They were too – too fanatically convinced that what they were doing was right and that anyone disagreeing with them was wrong.’ She took a large gulp of her Butterbeer.

‘Sounds familiar,’ Harry said.

‘Yes, well, some people weren’t beyond redemption, although I wouldn’t put it past Draco to have some silly notion about starting things up again in America.’

‘What’s Malfoy doing in America?’ Ron asked.

‘Snape, apparently,’ Harry said, and was greatly amused when Ron snorted Firewhisky out of his nose.

‘Malfoy and _Snape_?’ Parvati asked. ‘I don’t know who’s got worse taste there.’

‘Both of them,’ Ron suggested.

The bells over the door jangled and Ginny came racing in, her cheeks flushed, her arms laden with parcels. ‘Am I late?’ she asked, flopping onto the couch beside Luna and spilling the packages onto the table. ‘I know we said we weren’t going to do presents, but I found something I knew Neville would love, and then I sort of had to get something for everyone else as well...’ She started pushing parcels at people, and then looked up at Harry. ‘Where’s...’

‘Not here yet,’ Harry said quickly.

‘Should we wait?’

But they didn’t have to. Harry saw the tall, curly-haired man pass by the window. ‘He’s here,’ he said before the door opened.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Tom said, squeezing into the chair with Harry. ‘I didn’t miss presents, did I?’

‘We’re not meant to be doing presents!’ Harry said. ‘But Ginny just had to buck the trend, as usual.’

Tom raised one dark eyebrow and smiled. ‘She’s not the only one,’ he said, lifting the bag he had brought in and piling presents on the table.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ said Hermione, before reaching under the table and pulling out her own stack of gifts. ‘It’s hardly Christmas without presents.’

In the end it turned out they had all brought something, though Harry was more preoccupied with looking at Tom for the first few minutes of unwrapping – he wanted to unwrap him, to undo the Slytherin tie and bite his neck, to pull his robes off and –

‘Harry,’ Tom said. ‘You’re not opening your presents.’

‘Oh, I’m thinking about it.’

Tom laughed. ‘Wait a minute – where’s Draco?’

‘America,’ Harry, Ron, and Hermione said together.

‘What’s he doing in _America_?’

‘_Snape_!’ chorused everyone else.

Tom ran a hand through his dark curls and shook his head. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m totally shocked.’

They fell to opening their presents after that, though Harry was still more than a little distracted, this time by memories. Draco and Snape had finally proven themselves when the Dark Lord fell and the Dark Days ended, mainly by facing their Ministry trials with dignity. It didn’t hurt that Dumbledore had testified on both their behalves, his portrait and Pensieve brought into the courtroom especially for the occasion.

It didn’t hurt that they had had the word of the Dark Lord himself to prove their innocence.

Many people had wanted Tom’s head, variously on a pike, on a plate, on a silver platter, to use as a Quaffle, and a number of other equally uninventive uses. It was understandable. But there had been so many witnesses to the final battle, taking place as it did in central London (Arthur Weasley had claimed twelve weeks’ overtime for running the mass Memory Charm operations on the Muggles), that it was undeniable – almost everyone who was anyone had seen the split between Voldemort and Tom Riddle, seen the spirit of the one separate from the body of the other, and seen that piece of evil which was called Lord Voldemort crumble to nothing but ashes, caught in the radiant beam of light from Harry’s wand.

Some of them had even stopped making jokes about light sabers after a few months.

Tom-without-Voldemort was diminished, quiet, almost a shadow of his former self – or rather, the light that had cast that shadow. His face had been almost as white as the pillowslips at St. Mungo’s, where Harry had gone to see him in his private room, surrounded by Aurors. Harry had gone to see if there was any monster left in him, and found only the boy. It seemed that what made Tom _Tom_ had survived until he was seventeen, and that was the age he appeared when all was said and done.

So they dressed him in school robes, and found him a new wand, and sent him back out into the world. And the path he’d chosen to follow this time had led him to exactly the same person it had before – Harry Potter. Although this time he had rather fewer evil intentions. They’d started out by renting a flat together in London four years ago, after the initial kerfuffle post-Dark Days had died down, where Harry could attend Auror training – although the position description was substantially different these days, there were still Death Eaters clinging tenaciously on in various parts of the world, and Voldemort had not been the only Dark wizard ever – and Tom could set to work building himself a new life.

‘_Harry_. Open your presents.’ Tom poked him. The general area was littered with brightly coloured paper. Neville was thanking Ginny for something she called a ‘Babel fish’ – something to do with communication in foreign languages, Harry thought – and he reached for the topmost parcel, which was small and wrapped in silver tissue paper. The chain slithered out first as he opened the paper, and then Slytherin’s locket fell into the palm of his hand. Twisted and blackened, it was only barely recognisable.

‘Tom–’

‘Don’t. It’s just important that someone remembers.’

Harry closed his hand around the locket. ‘I don’t think anyone’s going to forget in a hurry,’ he said.

Tom covered Harry’s hand with his own. ‘You’d be surprised,’ he said. ‘Six years on, there are little children who don’t know who Lord Voldemort was. And to be honest, I’d just as soon it stayed that way. But I need _someone_ to remember.’

Luna was playing with a radio someone had given her, turning the tuning knob back and forth, bypassing an ad for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and what sounded like a stock market report before settling on a music station.

‘I know that song!’ Neville said. ‘I heard it in Australia just last month.’

Harry caught the words, ‘_leave me with a scar_’ and involuntarily jumped. Neville looked at him and laughed, reaching out to turn the volume up at the next chorus.

‘Could be your theme song,’ he said.

Harry turned his head to Tom, who had his head cocked to one side, listening. As the words sank in, they both started laughing.

_Doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?  
Doesn’t that make you shiver,the way things could have gone?  
And doesn’t it feel peculiar when everyone wants a little more?  
And so that I do remember to never go that far,  
Could you leave me with a scar?_

‘Except I left _you_ with the scar, Harry,’ Tom said, kissing it lightly.

Harry lifted his chin and kissed Tom back properly. ‘We’ve all got our scars, even if they’re not all visible,’ he said. ‘They’re what make us remember.’ He leaned back into the circle of Tom’s arms and gazed around the group of his friends; happy, animated, and above all _alive_. Lord Voldemort was gone, and all that was left of him was Tom Riddle, and Harry’s fading scar.


End file.
